I’m driving. 125 miles an hour. Haven’t gone this fast for ages. No-one can overtake me. My phone just went but I can’t answer it. A car, behind, coming up so fast!! I can’t believe it. I move over, first time in miles and miles. I look sideways to see the person that wants to overtake me. I see… hang on, that is strange!

A man, short hair. Hands on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead. And… occupying the same space is a figure. A cloak, two coal black eyes, and it looks like it’s made of smoke! But solid… It signals to me, one hand raised, and lowered. Like this.
And I’m driving, and I take my foot off the pedal on the bend because, my god, if that is Death, I need to keep an eye out. The road. It’s starting to rain, and, oh, it’s getting dark, watch out, no! It’s a queue!
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOT DEAD PLEASE NOT DEAD, NO PLEASE NOT DEAD.

The brakes are slammed on and I’m skidding. The lorry coming up too fast … All of my life is behind me now, nothing in front. That’s it. That’s it. Isn’t it a shame? And I’m…

(Sharp intake of breath. Body contorted as though in crash.)

Thirty-Nine.

I’m taking off my make-up, it’s evening. I’m riding high. I’m in love with secure, I’m in love with stable, I’m in love with confidence and a veg box on Friday’s, natural yoghurt and kiwi fruit for breakfast, Saturday newspapers, mornings when I’m off work. I like being in bed and hearing the sound of the bin men on a Tuesday morning. It's a nice dependable sound, like everything works in the world. I even like food shopping these days.

I sit at a table, talking to my husband in the study.

“Do you know, I had this conversation,”… “well actually it was almost a Debate, with Phil at work, about immigration?”

“Are you listening?”

“You’re not are you?”

“Anyway this idiot at work, I mean I don’t think of her as one but my even my mum is an immigrant…
and this guy was actually saying he would stop all immigration.”

“This is very UKIP I think… Stop it 100 % and then introduce it back very slowly. But - are you listening?”
Yes? Phil also said that if it wasn’t for all the poles working on Farms driving down the cost of work! They would have to pay us more because we wouldn’t put up with those wages, “They’d have to pay us more” he said. There are 1.5 million unemployed and if all the immigrants hadn’t come in in the last I don’t know - what 20 years? 50 years? He didn’t say how long. Everyone would be in work, he said.

I say, “no, there are discrimination laws and they’d never pay you more! I felt really good, I think I won that…” “Did you say you ate?”… I say to my husband….

I sit there, with Vertigo, the floor pulling away from under me. Even when I’m sitting on the floor and I’m really close to it. The ceiling moving slightly if I look up and I’m slightly fuzzy headed. Not how I want to be… but a little Agoraphobic. I don’t like being in the Garden, don’t like leaving the house … but there’s the Big Wheel in town, Oh my god, I went last week …it’s not really any worse up there, I thought it would be… but I look up at it. It. Sways and it calls out that it’s swaying …

“Hey''
It seems to sing in the wind,

“I’m moving. I’ll crash on you”

And I’ve got that
(Sings.)
“Summertime, Summertime sadness…”

All this time, not even in the Garden. Sitting inside by the fire which isn’t even on and all this unbelievable, beautiful wasted Summer. And I’m …

NO

(Sharp intake of breath. Contorts body as though in crash.)

Thirty-Two. But this isn’t fair we’ve just met. Wait, Will you stay my husband?? We’ve just met, again. Days… where have the days gone? It can’t all go by this fast. It can’t all just. We walk in the snow. It’s snowing, but it’s all uphill and the snow is thick and falling fast and the view is gone. Where did the view go? Instead of walking in the day we went for a swim… Now the light’s going and

“Shall we turn back?”

Our feet are wet and we don’t want to go much further. Our shoes aren’t good enough, we can buy walking boots tomorrow, there’s that place on the corner in town.

The Village. Underneath us. Near, but quiet.
It’s beautiful, but it’s also so blurry looking through the snow… So beautiful. It’ll be warmer tonight. Yesterday we saw the mountains. Will we tomorrow? Hang on, we did, we…

(Sharp intake of breath. Contorts body as if in crash.
Picks up slippers from the floor.)

Lying in the bunk on Bright Moon. I hear him put the gas on for the kettle. I thought I’d never fall in love, I thought I was, I don’t know, a player because I never loved anyone all that much. Always keeping my heart to myself. Hidden by loads and loads of stuff… other stuff like booze and sport and travel….

I thought I’d never love anyone this much. Oh I remember… he spat at me yesterday, for getting in his way. I don’t know why but I loved it. I know he meant it. I must’ve really annoyed him. He’s never hit me. No one ever has. But at last someone who pushes my buttons.

What am I doing?

I’m lying in a bunk for 10 more minutes. I don’t want to get up yet, it’s ten past six, I had shit from you ten minutes ago! Can’t I even wake up ok? Then he flicks me between the eyebrows, and my eyes open. He’s there… I’m so happy to see him waking me up and I smile.

And I smile… and it’s a good day… a good day on the water.

I love the feel of the boat rocking all the time…

OH, I’m so sad, so sad…..

OH and what!! Is this happening?

I’m Twenty-Six.

I’m Twenty-Five, in yoga. My sister died last night and I didn’t know where else to go. All my strength is gone and I can’t cry, I can’t do yoga… I can’t do anything. I follow the moves, and the class holds me up. That’s a Tragedy, John said. Yes, yes and it is it is it is it is

(Sharp intake of breath. Contorts body. Happy suddenly.)

Twenty-Four. I love this class. I want to be that good, I want to be as good as the teacher. I want to be as strong as John with his legs, and as flexible as the women, with their twists. I really know that I will never do any more Step Classes, I can’t do them, I can’t keep up with the moves… This is slower and way more calm and beautiful. I want this I really want this. I will do everything I can… which isn’t much.

I can’t hold this any more! I can do this one though.

(Sharp intake of breath. Contorts body.)

Oh no I don’t want these times back no not the Oh oh it’s ok I’m

Nineteen, First year of uni over. Sitting on the grass, on this green, just down the road from the place. “Isn’t it weird, where’s the year gone?” says Issa. Four of us. Only one guy. No one special. We Oh god, I’m the only one not coming back next year.

Do I know I will be going? Oh god, this is confusing! The car crash! The, Christ I’m

Twelve. I’m in my room, tracing on a note book. Pictures from a magazine, against the light. I will say at school that I drew them. I will say that they just come in to my head, all these pictures… beautiful girls, really sexy, really good looking, And no one will have got this magazine in school. Hang on someone might, but I keep it away, that thought. I take the tracing down from the window. Cut it out, add it to the pile.

Eight… Waiting in the Cinema, it’s in between films, and we’re sitting eating popcorn, whatever is left, just the bits. We can’t go and get more. It’s about to start again. Same film. Just stayed in the seats in the dark. For The Neverending Story, it’s such a great film!

Six. I fell over again, in the gravel, off my bike, I am bleeding so much I think I will need stitches, but maybe not.

Three. Reading, reading with mum. On the floor, such a sunny day.

Two. A boy, my age… my mum talking to “Clare cheese”. I ask my mum ‘is he my boyfriend?’ mum says ‘yes’, so I crawl over to him and give him a kiss on the cheek.